


To Catch The Fly

by Inyahs



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones (Undertale), Featuring the trials and tribulations of pet ownership, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2020-09-27 17:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20411815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inyahs/pseuds/Inyahs
Summary: To save a life, a reluctant pet owner must accept a strange Bitty into their home.





	1. Come into my parlour

**Author's Note:**

> After reaching 200,000 words on my other Undertale Fanfic, I've decided to celebrate...! With more words...T^T
> 
> Updates will be sporadic. Basically, whenever I have a milestone I randomly want to celebrate.

_Some people. _

Are not suited for parenthood.

_…Or keeping things alive in general._

**I am one of those people. **

Club member and everything.

A fact I was quite content to live with…until the fateful day my nephew was <strike>summoned from the pit </strike>born.

The moment I first held that small, wriggling ball of (maybe) human anatomy, it occurred to me. Should a meteor fall from the sky and wipe out my brother, the mother of his spawn, both our families and the government…

There was still a small chance I would be made this child’s legal guardian, against all sane reasoning.

And though my nephew would eventually grow to be relatively independent…once he learned to take flight and hunt his own prey… I still had a responsibility to grasp the basics of child-sustainability 

This realisation led to the adoption of Philip.

The Dionaea muscipula, or Venus flytrap, for those who don’t have a suspicious, almost Wikipedia-like knowledge of such things.

Our tale of nurture started off well. With me making it from my front door to the window without dropping my new responsibility.

Once Philip was set up on a stable surface, it was only a matter of keeping him alive. Water and sunlight, right?

_Right._

As far as plants go, Philip Jr was well behaved. Never cried or complained. He seemed to appreciate the odd insect, so I made sure to leave the window ajar every now and then.

But there was no way of foreseeing that I would return home one day to the sight of a small monster attacking Philip the Third with a glass of water.

Completely unprepared for such a thing to happen, I stood in the doorway. Staring at the home invader… who seemed to have a similar plan. Staring back at me, glass of water still floating over the plant.

_Of all things to take advantage of my air-tight security…_

**A Bitty.**

…While unexpected, this certainly wasn’t my first time encountering such an individual.

The artificial companions were an inescapable cultural phenomenon. Accompanying people in their everyday lives and rivalling cat videos on the internet.

Being employed by the same company who manufactures them…albeit in an unrelated department… meant I’d seen my fair share of the tiny monsters and then some.

Even closer to home, was my generic sweet-natured old lady neighbour and her bundle of joy, Precious….who’s most redeeming quality was not being a chihuahua.

Overall, my relationship with Bittys is one of professionalism.

Where I try not to give the impression I wear human skin as a disguise…and they only scream when I appear without warning.

…Which is often…despite my best efforts to make at least some noise when entering a room. Some sort of skitter or slither, to let people know<strike> death might be imminent</strike> I am present.

A courtesy I might have to extend to my own home, since apparently open windows don’t keep people out like they used to…

The Bitty still hadn’t moved, which made for a solid minute of us staring at each other now.

I wasn’t really inclined to stop…because stranger danger…

Given the opportunity, I examined the Bitty’s crooked, kinda maybe melting features.

…It wasn’t a variety I had seen before. Possibly custom made... With elements of the common skeleton model…but more on the glitchy black goop side.

_Adorable._

But beside the point.

That point being…I may have inadvertently stumbled upon a solution to my problems.

“…You appear to have a basic grasp of horticulture,” I observed.

The mild tone caused the Bitty to startle.

Thus, the now empty glass slipped from whatever magical grasp held it suspended…and ended its career as a drinking mechanism shattered on my floor.

The glass shards became the new target of our joint staring, and something about the property damage seemed to finally trigger the little monster’s moral compass.

That is to say, it winced slightly… but saw no reason to evacuate my living space or apologize.

“…Never mind. It was only a family heirloom,” I brushed all remorse aside with a dismissive hand. “If you are in no real rush to flee the premises…I have a proposition.”

The Bitty’s gaze, once merely wary, took a step closer towards the analytical.

It gave me pause… but was ultimately shrugged off.

_Someone willing to break and enter…or enter, then break… just to save someone’s obviously dying flora couldn’t be all bad._

“Look after the descendants of Philip,” I pointed towards the distressed house plant. ”And consider yourself welcome to my shelter and resources.”

_I’d been doing things all wrong. _

_Obviously, the key to successful plant care is to establish a food chain._

The Bitty…didn’t seem to know what to make of the offer.

I couldn’t blame the hesitance. Not with Philip III acting as a dire warning to all who might consider becoming depentant on me…

_That’s not to say I had time for it. _

Having said the bare minimum to convey what I wanted, I considered the conversation a success and resumed my post-work routine.

Setting my coat up in its formal hanging location before heading towards my study, where I could unpack my briefcase with quiet efficiency.

I’d have to allocate a few minutes to cleaning up the shattered glass... but that shouldn’t _cut_ too deeply into my plans.

Whether the Bitty ultimately had somewhere better to be…wouldn’t really make much of a difference.

_To the long line of Philips? Definitely. Me? Not so much. _

Content that I was finally making some progress towards becoming a human capable of nurturing another life, I didn’t give the Bitty a second thought.

Until I realised it was following me…

…Three days later.

…

..

.

…In my defence.

My previous experience with co-existing with other life forms is that they can go mostly unnoticed until the need to dispose of a body arrives.

But Philip didn’t stalk me around the house like a goopy shadow, settling into my peripheral and peeking around doorways.

_And therein lies the problem._

It was during third breakfast (Also known as dinner, in households that don’t survive exclusively on cereal) that I finally took a moment to acknowledge this change in my life.

_That is, the addition of a stalker._

With an intensity that only animals with a nictitating membrane should have, I met the gaze of the Bitty. Currently observing me from the top of my fridge.

Who flinched at the sudden attention, ducking lower to avoid my flat stare.

_So._

_I’m supposed to be the predator in this situation?_

Surely the Bitty must have realised by now that my diet consists mostly of sugar?

_...which begs the question of what it has to be wary of…_

Still.

The Bitty has yet to start crying…which still put this interaction in the top 10%

With my spoon of crunchy diabetes paused mid-delivery, I attempted communication.

“…Do you require something?”

The Bitty only flinched at first… but after a long moment…wherein it became apparent I felt no need to extend or dismiss the question, it hesitantly spoke.

I blinked at the distorted sounds, which would have seemed more natural coming from the dark abyss rather than the tiny goop monster.

“…Ah,” I observed. “A language barrier.”

With that said, I resumed eating my cereal.

And continued to do so in silence.

To the untrained eye, it might seem that I’d abandoned the conversation entirely. In fact, it was only once I’d finished my meal and cleaned up after the affair, that I address the Bitty once more.

“Come.”

I strode to my study, never looking back to see if the Bitty was actually following.

_That would be the immediate resolution to my stalking problem after all._

Of course, _offering_ to transport the Bitty probably would have been politer.

_Unfortunately._

**I bite.**

By the time I was seated at my desk and organized with a stack of paper and a pen, the Bitty had found a hiding place amongst my stationery.

“If you cannot speak,” I held out the pen. “Can you write?”

…

..

.

Staring at the incomprehensible shapes the Bitty had scrawled out on the paper…

My eyebrow twitched.

_Apparently not._

“Your handwriting is terrible,” I observed.

**Accurately.**

The criticism finally spurred a reaction from the Bitty.

…While I didn’t understand the words it snapped at me.

Bitch is a universal language.

“Have you tried not slouching?” I recommended.

It looked at me.

Because it was blatantly _melting_.

My stare turned to the paper, contemplating a solution.

“…Can you _read_. And _point_?”

With a restrained air of professionalism, the Bitty offered the pen towards me.

**As opposed to stabbing me in the eye with it.**

Taking the pen, I proceeded to jot down everything I would need to know about my new roommate.

I AM DYING.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

I REQUIRE SUSTENANCE

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

I AM LIKELY TO SMOTHER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Reading over my questions, the Bitty gave me the look one usually reserves for the lowest of lifeforms.

I stared back.

“…Were you expecting _small_ talk?”

With a clear air of disapproval, the Bitty held out a goopy limb.

I returned the pen.

And watched as the Bitty stiffly crossed out the 1 in every category.

“Hmm…Should have used a broader statement in the third question,” I blinked down at the given answers. 

The Bitty released an annoyed huff.

Which was fair. Homicidal intentions are rarely the topic of polite conversation.

“Live and learn, I suppose,” I started writing down more questions. “For now, let’s continue under the assumption that we both have better things to do than murder the other.”

This time, I put more effort into resolving my housemate's insistent need to stalk me.

Even if it meant asking the questions I least wanted to.

WATER?

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

WALKIES?

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

**WAGE?**

1 2 3 4

Instead of dignifying any of these questions with an answer, the Bitty yanked the paper away from me. 

Head propped on fist; I could do nothing but watch as the conversation dissolved into violence.

Under the same blue magic the Bitty had used to water my house plant, the paper crumbled. Thrown across the room with the vindictive force of someone who holds a deep grudge against paper.

Once it was done assaulting the stationery, the Bitty sent me a haughty glare.

As if it had just revolutionized the discussion with its bold theories on paper aerodynamics.

And perhaps _they_ had.

“…So what you mean to say, is that if you required something so basic of me, you would have made an effort to communicate it by now,” I raised an eyebrow. “Given that you seem somewhat capable of expressing both your needs and views on my intelligence, I’ll take your word for it…but that does not explain the… Oh.”

Staring at the standoffish goop monster, it finally dawned on me.

“…A need for sentient interaction,” I realised, with thinly veiled disgust.

The Bitty glared.

As if offended at the implication that I could provide such a service.

“…We’ll settle on ‘Boredom’ as being the official diagnosis,” I relented, equally uncomfortable with the prospect of companionship.

After a moment, the Bitty gave a small nod.

Though I doubt I’d been completely correct in my assumptions…the Bitty did seem interested in where this was going…

I sighed.

“I suppose now is as good a time as any to become better acquainted.”

Fortunately, I had come prepared with multiple pieces of paper, so resuming conversation was only a matter of writing on a fresh page.

“…Doctor R. Lyeh,” I said. Gaze kept firmly on the paper in front of me. “Is what is written on my name tag… and is my most popular designation. It’s best not to even try and pronounce my first name outside the usual summoning rituals ”

Finishing my latest line of questioning, I turned the paper toward the Bitty, pen held out. 

“As for your own introduction…well. Unless you can communicate a better alternative…I’ll refer to you by your position as my Gardener.”

I tilted my head.

“Perhaps just G, if you’ll allow the informality.”

_Of course, the G stands for Goop, not Gardener, but what they don’t know…_

After a long moment, the Bitty nodded their consent…before glancing down at the paper.

PRONOUN?

HIM/HER/THEM/OTHER

STAYING?

NO THANK YOU / I LIKE TO LIVE ON THE EDGE

REASON?

TO PREVENT MORE LIFEFORMS FROM DYING IN YOUR CARE/ FOR LACK OF ANYTHING BETTER TO DO / I NEED SOMETHING FROM YOU, BUT AM UNABLE TO COMMUNICATE IT AT THIS POINT

WILLING TO ELABORATE FURTHER?

YES/ NO

With a final glance up at me, G started crossing out his answers.

…In conclusion, He’s staying. Because of all of the above.

**No explanation.**

“Hmm. In that case,” I slid back from the desk, reaching into one of the lower draws. “You’ll need of something better to do than alternate your attention between Philip III and myself.”

Sitting up, I placed the retrieved puzzle book before the Bitty gardener.

Who stared at it, confused.

“Sudoku,” I announced flatly.

**The holy grail of entertainment.**

The confused look transferred from the book to me.

“Congratulations. Containing your excitement is the first step to sudoku mastery.”

G averted his gaze, almost seeming embarrassed at my efforts.

Which were admittedly pitiful.

“Alternatively, If you are interested in the sciences,” I pointed towards the loaded bookshelf. “You’re welcome to my collection.

Following my finger, something in G’s expression faltered.

A flicker of vulnerability.

**Want.**

“As for when I_ am_ socially available,” I continued, squashing any intrigue I felt towards the inner workings of the Bitty’s mind.

_There would either be time for that later...or the information wouldn't matter._

“You are welcome to do…whatever _this_ is,” I gestured towards his entire person and purpose. “Or, alternatively, _not_ stalk me around my own home. I don’t know. Surprise me.”

Deciding that it would only be economical to catch up on paperwork while I was already at my desk…I proceeded to do just that, retrieving another pen from my stockpile of stationery.

Scowling at the blatant dismissal, G retreated to the far end of my desk.

Dragging the sudoku book and pen along with him.

Just when I thought the conversation was safely over, the Bitty said something in his usual glitchy garble.

Perhaps thanking me.

More likely insulting my mother.

Which was a nice change.

_Most people just assume I crawled out of the void... _


	2. Along came a Spider

“I believe,” my arms crossed. “that this is what’s known as _extortion_.”

“heh,” The Bitty on my mailbox smirked. “suck it up, buttercup."

A red eye-light was winked my way. “i’m providin’ a _service _here.”

My eyebrow rose in protest. 

“Holding someone’s mail hostage in exchange for mustard is not a service_, _Precious.” 

With one hand pressed over his breaking heart, the small skeleton used the other to flip me off.

“should’a thought of that before subscribing, doc.”

Considering this advice, I tried to recall whether or not I’d signed up to be harassed on a near-daily basis.

“…I did not.”

Sharp teeth twitched. The Bitty likely cracking under the pressure of my keen observations...

“that’s not what our paperwork says.”

“…Have you considered seeing a medical practitioner for these delusions?”

“excuse you,” Precious was offended. “i’m tryin’ ta run a business here.”

“…………I see,” I cupped my chin in thought. “You’ve fabricated the existence of legal documents… either to earn my trust or as a-”

“Yoo-hoo, Doctor!”

My gaze rose from the Bitty to my elderly Neighbour, waving as she made her unsteady way down the garden path.

_Showing off, pushing her walker along one-handed like that. _

“Good morning, senior citizen,” I nodded to the ancient woman as she joined us at our neighbouring mailboxes.

“Please, Dr Lyeh,” She smiled. “Call me, Ms Citizen.”

Precious promptly started gagging.

“_Cram it_, short stack!” The old woman’s expression shifted to one of pure delinquency.

“what’cha expect from me, hag?” The Bitty leant forward, chin tilted defiantly. “oughta call the authorities on ya, flirt’n with the abomination in broad daylight.”

“That ain’t none of your business, shrimp.”

“t’is when ya subject me, along with the rest of the unsuspectin’ public, to your gross, dried up estrogen.”

“Good thing I didn’t dust it off for _you_,” like the flip of a coin, the sweet smile was back in place and turned to me. “Right, Doctor?”

“My interest in hormones is fairly non-existent,” I blinked. “But I’m sure your estrogen is adequate, Ma’am.”

“**what’s that supposed to imply, eh**?” Precious took a threatening step forward. Head tilted, eye-lights flickering out. “**my gal ain’t good enough for ya, e h?**”

I stared down at the Bitty. Afraid for my life at this point.

“Unfortunately, a union between myself and another living entity would fulfil all the requirements needed to summon a world-ending beast from the unfathomable depths of horror.”

_Specifically, my mother._

“Oh-hoho,” The old lady giggled, twirling a finger in a stray strand of white hair. “You have such a way with words, dear, my old heart can’t take it.”

“yeah right, that meat-sack shrivelled up years ago,” Precious muttered.

“How ‘bout we settle this the old-fashioned way, short-straw?” My Neighbour slammed a fist into her palm, neck cracking side to side.

_Possibly from arthritis._

“heh,” The Bitty held his hands up in a shrug. “maybe when i’m done scamin’ ya out of ya life-savin’s…”

“Ahem,” I interrupted as politely as possible, given the circumstances. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me...”

“Oh! Of course, Doctor,” My Neighbour smiled, green eyes twinkling. “Don’t let this **little leech** keep you from your work.”

Said leech scowled, dissatisfied.

_Perhaps more than just dissatisfied…_

As a responsible adult, I knew that asserting myself here would benefit Precious in the maturity department… though it would mean suffering in the short term…

And the long term.

So I didn’t even try.

“I’ll have the ransom with me tonight,” I sighed.

The Bitty startled; as if he’d forgotten the complete control he had over my life.

“…heh, knew you’d come around eventually, doc,” his scowl stretched into a satisfied grin. “lookin’ forward to doing business with ya.”

Adding _acquire mustard_ to my list things to accomplish with my day, I escaped the cesspool of crime that is my front yard. Continuing my daily commute towards the bus stop and onto said bus without further harassment.

The opposite, in fact, as most people avoided my presence.

_Not that I minded._

The lack of company or acknowledgment created an ideal thinking environment. Capable of sustaining even the deepest philosophical thoughts.

_…Self, add toilet paper to my shopping list. _

_Also Milk…Such are the costs of a cereal addiction…_

On the subject of consumption...Eating must be something Bittys do.

Given Precious’ regular harassment for treats, it might even be a daily occurrence.

I’d been starting to doubt… seeing how the Bitty currently sharing my living space had shown zero sign of experiencing this need.

_...Or any of the needs one usually associates with successful biological function…_

While I might not be the most observant when it comes to the survival of those dependent on me… I’d made something of an effort over the past week.

To at least acknowledge G’s existence.

_…Occasionally._

As far as I could tell, the Bitty sustained himself on his thirst for knowledge alone.

Spending most of our quality time together devouring the contents of my library.

The sudoku book, alas, had not survived the night; completed and mic-dropped on my table as I sat down for the most important meal of the day.

_First breakfast._

The feat no doubt made G the greatest mind to ever live…but also proved the book to be a very finite source of entertainment.

So far, I’d been buying time by giving the Bitty the newspaper every morning.

_It would be solved down to the horoscope by the time I got home._

At this rate, my Gardener would run out of stimulation.

_Then what?_

**Unspeakable Horror, **that’s what.

In summary, I had to acquire something to appease the Bitty; or risk the situation escalating into another **_conversation._**

_…mustard, paper, milk…Something to keep G amused indefinitely. _

I had an entire day to figure out the nature of that something.

It would be fine.

...

.

.

**It was not fine.**

Having put off every instance in which I could contemplate the intellectual needs of my housemate, I now sat at my desk.

Chin set upon steepled fingers.

** _Panicking._ **

For the workday was moments from completion.

And I, a bus ride away from grocery aisle indecision.

**The cruellest fate of all.**

_...It shouldn’t be this difficult._

Not for someone who’s entire income relies on their ability to solve problems.

Yet here I am.

No wiser than when it first occurred to me that my solitude was in jeopardy.

_G’s a Gardener… I should get him gardener things. _

_Like a shovel, or nitrate fertiliser… yes, literal shit. It’s so simple. Why didn’t I think of it before…_

“……Dr Lyeh?”

I stared at the clock.

At the fifteen seconds I had left, to either solve my problem _or_ acknowledge my co-worker.

Rather, the impossible event that was a co-worker,

Approaching me,

_Voluntarily._

“…Hello, Terry,” I greeted.

“I..ah... prefer Terence…or Dr We…” I turned my head. At a perfectly acceptable angle.

“…Terry is also fine,” My coworker came to his senses, grey eyes averting behind round glasses.

The following ten seconds of my life were spent watching, unblinking, as the short man fidgeted in place. Running an anxious hand through messy brown curls.

_Which was all well and good, but hardly fulfilled his end of the conversation._

“Isn’t it customary to have something to discuss when you deliberately draw someone’s attention?” I asked.

“Yes!” Terry stiffened to attention. “Of course…Well…I just…noticed you seemed…”

Words seemed to fail him, as there was no way to describe the intense horror of me brooding at my desk.

“…And you felt a need to address this issue,” I tilted my head. “Of which I am currently well aware and dealing with?”

“Yes?” he squeaked, shoulders hunching almost to his ears.

The movement revealed a presence on the left of said shoulders.

A Bitty.

“…How thoughtful of you, Terry,” I commended, gaze fixated on the small monster companion. Who stared back, equally stoic.

_It's one of the spider-like monsters…_ _A Muffle? No..._ _Oh. Muffet. Now I get it._

“Given our scarce interactions in the past,” I said. “I wouldn’t have expected you to take an interest in my woe.”

Though that wasn’t the most charitable assessment, as Terry was still a fairly recent addition to my work life. Catalogued under Friendly / Shy / Bowtie, within the first minute.

I hadn’t been expecting this bonus content…Just as Terry didn’t seem prepared for me to call him out on it.

“…W-Well that’s…I…ah,” the man blushed, pushing his glasses up his nose to cover the heat flooding his cheeks. “…happened to notice… t-that you…don’t seem to fit in very well…”

He trailed off.

Likely due to my heart-broken expression.

“I don’t?” I stared at him, overwhelmed by this news of my social failure.

“No!” Terry’s hands flew up. “…I mean…you fit in fine…! You’re just… very…”

I watched those hands waving in the air as if trying to summon an appropriate adjective from the underworld.

“…Introverted!” he took a step back.

Defending his vitals.

“Yes! Very very _very_ _introverted_…which is fine! But ah… I thought I should take the initiative! AndcometalktoyouI’msorry!”

By the end of it, Terry’s eyes had squeezed shut, as if expecting grievous bodily harm to befall him.

Which was strange, as I had been minding my own business before he decided to come over here and hurt my feelings.

“…I see,” I returned my gaze to the clock, giving my co-worker a chance to start breathing again.

Seeing how the minute hand has well and truly past the hour of departure…

_ I may as well embrace the anarchy._

“In that case,” I resumed my steepled pose, keeping an eye on the clock. “Any expertise you can offer would be appreciated.”

“…Expertise?” Terry shuffled nervously.

“You have a Bitty,” I pointed out.

While Terry wasn’t the only employee who made a habit of bringing his Bitty to work… failing to flee my presence made him the only one qualified to answer my questions.

“Oh? Yes! This is Castling,” He held up a hand, formally presenting the spider monster on his shoulder. “They let me make her custom, as a going away gift when I transferred from the Bitty department.”

_Custom._

That would explain the colouring…or lack there off.

“You designed her Monochrome?” I slid my gaze from the clock over to the Bitty.

Who stuck her tongue out, in protest of the attention. 

“To go with the Chess theme!” Terry’s eyes shone with excitement.

_Apparently, we had stumbled upon a topic he was passionate about._

My eyebrow rose.

“…And mute?”

“Oh, no no no no no!” He shook his head. “She’s just the strong and silent type. Right, Castling?”

The Bitty turned her nose up at the prompt to speak.

“Castling?” Terry quickly resorted to begging. “You’re making me look sinister…Caaastliiiing?”

She held out a hand.

“…I haven’t…I spent all my change on the muffin you wanted, remember?”

Without the prospect of bribery, negotiations broke down entirely. With a huff, the Bitty climbed nimbly down into Terry’s pocket.

_…Who knew extortion would be so prevalent in human-bitty interactions…_

“…If it’s any consolation,” I took pity on the rejected man. “The Bitty in my house also isn’t much of a conversationalist.”

Terry’s enthusiasm returned.

“You have a Bitty!?”

“I live near a Bitty.”

“Is that why you need my advice?” he asked.

I frowned, shocked.

“…First you willingly approach me… now you deduce something for yourself…could it be…" My gaze narrowed. "You're an imposter.”

My co-worker seemed to sweat-drop.

“N-no…? Is that really more believable than me wanting to talk to you?”

“…If that was your attempt to convince me of your identity,” I rotated my chair to give him my full attention, arms crossing. “I recommend you try again.”

The short man winced under the scrutiny.

“I-I mean…would there really be any benefit of disguising myself… just to talk to you?” he tugged at his curls.

“To get my guard down.”

_Obviously._

Yet the short man seemed even more confused.

“…_Why_?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Being the innocent victim in this, I couldn’t hope to comprehend your twisted reasoning, Terry.”

My Co-worker wilted. Defeated by my sane reasoning.

“…Do you still want me to answer your Bitty question?” Terry asked.

“……Very well. But I shall remain wary of your intentions.”

“Okay…”

Silence fell.

“…You… have to ask the question…before I can answer it?” he said.

“Do I, Terry?” I tapped a finger on my crossed arm. “_Do I?_”

He didn’t answer…and I sighed.

_Apparently, I must be the one to carry this conversation._

“The Bitty in my house appears to have many hours and far less many ways to occupy these hours.”

“…So you need idea's for entertainment?”

“Or forms of unpaid labour,” I agreed

“Have you tried Chess?!” Terry suggested.

Far too enthusiastically.

“…That requires an opponent if the aim is to prevent insanity,”_ And considering how quickly he solves puzzles._ “…I doubt I’d make a challenging one.”

“You don’t play?”

“A game based on strategically keeping something alive…may not be for me.”

“Um, okay…how about… Arts and craft?”

“M e s s y.”

_Worse, If G made something…and wanted me to put that something on my fridge… I would hardly be able to say no. Then I would be doomed to look at something asymmetrical every time I entered my kitchen. _

A which point, I’d have little choice but to starve.

“P-Puzzles?” Terry didn’t give up.

“He solves them faster than I can provide.”

“But they’re infinite…i-if you go online I mean…”

_………oh._

_The internet._

_Is a thing._

Given unlimited access to a device, it would only be a matter of time before G became a hollow shell of himself; uninterested in the outside world or social interaction.

_All I had to do, _

**was provide a screen.**

“…Now I see why they continue to employ you, Terry.”

I stood, brimming with newfound purpose.

My co-worker rubbed his cheek abashedly. “Thank you?”

“You are welcome.”

Having gotten what I wanted out of the exchange; I grabbed my briefcase and exited the building.

One bus ride and a supply raid later, it occurred to me that the original purpose of the cellular device, when created, was to aid in the act of COMMUNICATION.

Therefore, typing was a function.

This realisation left me staring dumbly, bags in hand, at my mobile options.

_Much to the horror of everyone within a certain radius of the tragic event._

On one hand, actively denying G the ability to speak would be morally reprehensible

On the other… the prospect of giving G the means to complain was daunting.

Not just complain, but inform me of his thoughts, feelings and understanding of employee rights.

All of which, would get in the way of me living my life unburdened by even the smallest hint of inconvenience.

_...Perhaps I’m overreacting._

Considering how many times I’d caught the Bitty staring at me for hours on end.

I should be setting my expectations of his social skills much lower.

Following the trend of impact he’s had on my life so far, giving the Bitty a phone should change nothing.

Odds are, G will be completely disinclined to speak with me, even when given the option.

Also, the immoral state of the alternative is unlikely to change, regardless of how much internal bitching I perform.

Most importantly, the store would close with me trapped inside it, if I stood deliberating for any longer.

Thus…I bought a phone.

Plus everything else needed to turn that phone into a functioning device. All of which was shakily explained to me.

By the time I found myself stepping off my last bus of the day, the details had been locked away into the small traumatised part of myself. Where they will keep the recipes of meals outside the realms of cereal company for all eternity.

Nothing says “_Your carefully structured way of life is over_” more than walking home in the dark.

Precious gave it a try, though.

“**you’re** **late**_,_” Red eye-lights glowed in the dark.

Specifically, on top of my gate, making entry impossible.

I came to a halt. Hand cupped to chin, considering Precious’ words and irritated tone carefully.

“I suspect you're stating the obvious to draw attention to the fact you feel inconvenienced,” I said.

“four.** h o u r s**.”

My head tilted.

“Strange, you seem to understand the concept of time…but are unable to grasp the correlation between assigning me an extra task and the delay in my arrival…”

Statistically, you’re far more likely to get assaulted in the dark if you walk home in the dark.

And talk shit to your violent Neighbour.

But I ignored all the signs. All the hardcore scientific evidence that said this was fact.

Thus, I reentered my home with slightly less mass than I intended.

As Precious had taken his mustard without returning my mail.

Also because I’d been stabbed.

G stared at my bleeding hand.

Now wrapped in toilet paper, as my genius had no limits.

The Bitty was able to do this because he’d been waiting at the door for me.

Which was abnormal behaviour, as was the stillness in which he observed my injury.

“…Do not be alarmed,” I raised the injured hand in greeting. “This isn't the first time I’ve been mortally wounded for no discernible reason.”

G flinched at the movement, blatantly mortified at the sight of human fluids exiting my body.

“…If I don’t last the night, I want you to look after Philip III,” I instructed solemnly, setting my various bags on the floor. “Raise him as the Plant son you never wanted, but will gradually learn to love.”

_It’s what Phillip II would have wanted. _

Usually, the shopping would make it to the kitchen table before being abandoned, but as I had been gravely injured, I felt the best cause of action was to lay on the floor and wait for death.

“This limits the possibility of getting blood on my possessions,” I tried to explain to G, when something about me laying down in the comfort of my own home provoke him to verbally abuse me.

And just because I couldn’t understand him, didn’t mean my fragile heart was ready to be scolded so harshly.

In this way, G bullied me into my bathroom, where I expressed surprise at finding a first aid kit.

Causing the ranting to escalate further.

“Not everyone has time to go through and memorise my belongings,” I said, carefully removing the one thing keeping me alive.

As G would sooner kill me himself than touch the bloodied toilet paper.

If he had his way, we would have burned the miracle of medicine from existence, but I insisted that the paper had more than earned the right to end its journey in the way God intended.

G continued to radiate disgust as I flushed the paper down the toilet.

Though that may have been due to my exposed hand.

Which now featured several small holes.

_…Mild, by Precious’ standards._

The Skeleton had inflicted worse upon me, back when he suspected I was a serial killer. Or a vampire. A lawyer. Something evil.

But there’s only so many times you can stab someone for taking out their garbage before you start to realise you might be over-reacting.

_Or so they tell me._

“…You don’t shoot bones at me, G,” I blinked down at the gore. “I like that in a person.”

Since reassurance was obviously the last thing I needed, G ignored this evaluation of his character. Turning to activate the plumbing system.

As transporting water is G’s specialty, he had no trouble turning the tap with his magic. Even less trouble dictating my hand under the running water.

“It stings,” I said. To the guy in a constant state of_ melting_.

_Needless to say, sympathy was not forthcoming._  
  
The turning off of the water was done curtly, as was the ordering of my hand into a position where the contents of the first aid box could be applied.

…Turns out disinfectant stings more than water. And band-aids can still be used after the expiry date.

G tended to my hand in silence. Movements stiff with the restraint it took not to injure me further.

_Out of resentment._

All I could do was stand in awe as the Bitty blew my previous medical knowledge out of the water.

Mostly because to do anything else would mean confronting the burning ruin that is my evening schedule.

The idea that the day might end without me performing the same activities in the same order for the same duration as every day before, was horrifying.

Like I had no control over my own life.

But I’d known, learning to facilitate another life would be difficult. Had been preparing for this chaos ever since Philip the First.

_It would be fine. Or I would die. One of the two._

G stuck the last bandage to my hand, huffing a sound of dismissal at me until I pulled my hand back.

Mended, at least in the sense that I wouldn’t get blood everywhere if I moved.

I stared at my hand.

“…Overall, this has been better than the typical stabbing experience,” Satisfied the repairs would hold, I let the limb rest at my side. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

G seemed uncomfortable with the gratitude. Standing as stiff as a melting person can while averting his gaze.

_What is the custom when it comes to excusing oneself from an awkward conversation in one's bathroom?_

I settled on “Bye.”

Leaving the Bitty, I went to collect my shopping from the entryway and resume the process of putting it away.

After which, I would be free to consume cereal.

_Work for an hour._

_Then resume my slumber._

**Normality at it’s finest.**

Thanks to being mugged, my sparse groceries were even sparser. Meaning I was well into the dining process by the time G followed me into the kitchen.

Upon being made aware of his presence, I pointed my spoon towards the box on the table.

“My Co-worker informs me there are puzzles on the internet. That phone will give you access to them. The instructions are in the box.”

G stared at me.

I stared at my cereal.

Feeling as though I had adequately explained the device's purpose.

_Really no reason to draw attention to the fact…_

“It has a keyboard function.”

I stirred my cereal, elaborating no further.

At the very least, procuring and continuing to fund a potential means of communication for G would give me the moral high ground. From which I’d be able to watch the Bitty’s sanity slowly decay from unlimited exposure to all of human knowledge.

I could sleep at night, knowing I’d solved my problem ethically…

Or not.

After realising that no matter what G typed, what translated into the device was not legible, I spent an additional four hours of my life organising a library of puzzles, games and music for G to use without my assistance.

All while he acted both intrigued and standoffish about the gift. Being no help whatsoever.

...The bandages on my hand reminded me it was probably worth it.


End file.
